Back to Black
by The Skans Hans Skivate
Summary: "It was me." I said, and he stared at me with glossy eyes, almost mad. "I'm Jay Gatsby, and I was the one who murdered your wife."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I don't own 'THE GREAT GATSBY'. It is owned by F. Scott Fitzgerald, who is now my best friend.

**Authors Note: **Hello, I'm Natty and I'll be your author this fine evening.

* * *

**~BACK TO BLACK~**

The blackness of my eyelids faded away from me, and left a blurry haziness of my vision. I sat up in my bed, sighing at the slight discomfort of it. The Bond business wasn't exactly booming for me, but I guess it was all I could hope to do for now.

I looked around my room, confused because I didn't know what woke me up. I thought I heard a noise, but then again maybe I didn't. It could have just been my imagination, or the fact that my drowsiness hadn't quite left me yet. I left my bedroom, dressed, and looked around, satisfied. Things looked to be in top shape.

I had finally gotten around to cleaning the new place. I admit that I've been distracted lately, what with fancy parties, and intimate affairs…not just my own. Jordan and I had been on and off, seeing each other on the side and sometimes even more than just that. A slight smile etched its way to my cheeks as I remembered her in great detail…

It was early, but not so early, and not late either. I didn't have work this morning, and, going back on this whole experience, I still, to this day, do not know whether it was lucky or not to have been home.

There was supposed to be a party at Gatsby's tonight, which was all I knew for ideas of what I was doing later on. I didn't think anything was really happening today. Jordan had a golfing tournament today (At least I was pretty sure that's what she told me last, I blame myself because my attention was…elsewhere…), Daisy and Tom have been quiet lately, Myrtle's funeral was in a few days, and Wilson was nowhere to be found.

Jay- I mean Gatsby, I didn't think I had the will to deal with him at the moment. So what was I doing going to one of his parties later on tonight? Well…that I didn't know myself…

I was misplaced in my thoughts. Was I mad at Gatsby? In a way, yes. I suppose that I was annoyed at how stubborn he was, his level of…certain senselessness and utter brilliance at the same time. He both amazed me and made me want to…to smack him. Not that I would…Perhaps if I had to-

He was obsessed with my cousin, which was already discomforting as it was, but she was married, yet he still kept trying to have Daisy. Gatsby was too determined, too absorbed, and I knew, that this mannerism, along with his falsely engaged riches, would follow him straight to his grave.

Don't get me wrong…Gatsby is and always will be my best friend, and I stand by him…And love certainly is blind but…how blind could you possibly become before there's nothing but darkness enclosing you?

I blinked, my eyes readjusting to the reality of my home around me, and, the engine of a car, and a horn, and excited voices, some with a mixture of anger and hindrance.

"Nick! Nick!" Jordan? I recognized the chuckle she gave as she spoke. "Oh, you are going to just _adore _hearing this!"

I wasn't even to the door before Jordan came bursting in, prancing around me and then the room, almost thrilled. She then planted herself on my couch, ready, as if to eagerly watch a film. Then I heard my cousin and her husband's voices from the front yard, getting closer. Neither of them sounded moderately as ecstatic as Ms. Baker.

"What's happening?" I could've sworn there was peace in my home just a second ago.

"_They_, are arguing." Jordan beamed.

"Well…I can see that, Ms. Baker. But why?"

Jordan swung her shoulders in an elegant and mocking manner. "Why, they are fighting over Mr. Gatsby!" She smiled with absolute delight, like this entertained her, and knowing her, it really did.

"Gatsby?"

"Did I say that, Nick?"

"You did…" I told her. Things were always difficultly attention-grabbing with her.

Jordan smirked, then imitated Daisy's innocent and pitiable look, before mocking my cousin's words. "_Gatsby? What Gatsby?_"

"Must you be a child?"

Jordan pouted. "Oh, spare me! Can't I have fun on this emotional ride?"

"No one said you couldn't, Ms. Baker. You simply assume that everyone is paying attention to you." I smiled and poured some alcohol into a glass, trying my best to drink it all. If this argument was what Jordan said, then I needed a little something, if not to keep my own sanity on this runaway train.

"Watch it, Mr. Carraway." Jordan flew up from the chair, snatching my second drink in a swift motion and sipping it clean in less than a few seconds, most likely to show me up no doubt. Her and her competitive manner. "I could obsess myself over the great and _mysterious _Jay Gatsby! _Oooh_!" She howled like a ghost. Perhaps she was already drunk when she got here.

"He isn't mysterious."

"Well not anymore, his secret is out. He is obsessed with your dear cousin, and they are to be married at the gates of heaven itself!" Jordan tossed out her arms.

I was about to comment on her wonderful powers of exaggerating, but the noisy couple finally made it to the door, shouting at each other as they walked through my living room. I noted that Jordan had taken her seat again, arms folded over the arm of the chair, resting her chin on her hands. It seemed as though she was ready for this event for over a lifetime, and it seemed as if Ms. Jordan Baker had a few mysteries herself…

"That's enough Tom! I don't wish to speak anymore!" Daisy stormed past him, only turning when he grabbed her.

"Well you sure had a hell of a lot to say once you were around that Gatsby fellow! What was his name? I think I heard you murmur it lovingly in his ear!" Tom yelled.

Daisy cried tears down her perfect pale face, her voice cracking. "I said I didn't wish to speak of it."

"Oh yes! _Jay!_" Tom tormented. "Mr. Jay Gatsby…Yes…" He thought to himself aloud. "A rather deceitful name if you ask me!" Tom glared then added. "I bet it's phony! Just like the rest of him!"

Jordan of course, couldn't help but make fun. "Why, are you implying that he's had…?" She faked a small gasp. "…Work done?" Smirking at the cleverness of her own words. A real piece of work, she was.

Daisy disregarded the notion, ongoing to her husband. "Stop it Tom! His name is real!" She snapped, and turned her glare to Jordan. "And the _rest_ of him is real as well, for your knowledge."

Jordan rolled her eyes, Tom was angered by this statement, and I had a slight blush on my cheeks on hearing such compliments about my neighbor.

Tom refused to let the remark perish. "And just how would you recall that? Hm?"

It wasn't a slip of the tongue; Daisy wanted him to know about it. She wanted to make it known that she had options, many, and Tom didn't control them.

"Daisy, answer me!" Tom demanded, but Daisy wouldn't answer her husband, instead she closed her eyes and turned, walking towards my front door.

Leaving without so much as a hello to me, I noted, but I understood that she was wrapped up in her own matters and troubles, so I didn't speak out. How could I have guessed that all of our troubles would later on mix into one?

Tom watched her walk to the door, and waved her off with a scoff. He then slapped a hand on my back. It always hurt when he did that, but from annual visits (Some of which I was reluctant to attend), I learned to get through the pain, but I'd always forget not to flinch when it happened.

"Nick, I'm sorry, how have you been?"

"Oh. Good, I can't really complain." I said,

"How do you like the city life?"

I hesitated, looking around to sum up this whole experience into one word. I looked to Jordan's boyish smile, Tom's mustache, the back of Daisy's head who stood with her hand on my doorknob (I knew that she was waiting for us to pay attention to her again before she left), And finally, I looked out my window to Gatsby's castle. "It's been…different…I suppose. Nothing like back home…" I trailed then muttered. "Or anywhere really sane…"

"Great!" Tom Buchanan smiled to me. I didn't know why he attempted to be nice and caring of what I was doing. If Daisy wasn't my cousin, or his wife, hell, he probably wouldn't even spit in my direction. On my shoes, maybe…

"I'm going to Gatsby's." Daisy rapidly said, gaining everyone's attention, like she wanted.

"Good idea." Tom supposed. "Maybe he'll teach you some manners on how to love your husband and leave bootleggers alone."

"He is an honest man!"

"And how do you figure that Daisy? Huh?" Tom asked her, and my cousin didn't respond. "Did he tell you that?" Again, Daisy didn't answer. "How you believe a word that comes out of that criminal's mouth is beyond me!"

"I heard he killed a man." Jordan still wouldn't butt out. She scoffed. "And Myrtle…"

Daisy had grown completely silent, and I, irritated. She once again neglected to defend the man whom she supposedly loved. I knew Jay better than any of them! How dare they trash him when the man was right next door! If they had questions or concerns of him, they should at least have the decency to walk over there and tell it to the man's face. If not, then nothing should be said. It was just selfish! And rather impolite. And Daisy and I knew the truth. Jay Gatsby didn't kill Myrtle Wilson, Daisy did. Daisy Buchanan, while driving Jay Gatsby's bright yellow car, hit, and killed, Myrtle Wilson, wife of George Wilson, and love interest of her own husband Tom Buchanan.

We were all connected to this in some way, all of us. To think, just weeks ago I thought we were all respectable people…

No. We weren't. We were horrible and Gatsby was great. And I have no reason to be avoiding him. The only crime he's committed was loving a fool. I vowed to make it up to him right there and then, anyway I could. I would make sure that he was happy in the end of all of this. For now, on his behalf, I would start small, and that was by telling off these beautiful fool's that were wrecking the serenity of my now beloved home.

"Quiet, all of you!" I retorted. "You should all be ashamed!"

"Nick…" Tom warned me and I shoved his hand away. I'd had it with everything, these lies, these schemes, these people, were all close to driving me to mere insanity. I had snapped.

Even Daisy turned at my tone, and I was surprised as well, because frankly, I didn't know it was in me either. I was on a high and I couldn't stop now.

"Ashamed of what, Nicky, darling?" Daisy asked me hopefully, her eyes pleading to me. She knew that I knew, and now she was begging me not to tell. I forced my eyes from hers. I wouldn't listen to any voice but reason, and Jay Gatsby spoke the voice of reason, at least, he did until Daisy got ahold of him. Now the poor fellow didn't make a lick of sense when he spoke! Or when he did anything really. Gatsby was unsure and certain at the same time. Unsure of the world around him, but certain, and absolutely positive of what he wanted, and that was Daisy Buchanan. From now on I would do anything in my power to keep Gatsby in his senses, I would speak up for him. It was both in Jay's best interest, and, sadly, Daisy's, who probably didn't even really care about Gatsby in the first place. She couldn't have feelings for him. Why would she let him take the murder rap if she did? Didn't she know what a claim like that could cause?

Daisy was away from the door in not even a moment, at my side, trying to ease me, but I would not be eased so easy. I pulled away from her too. I didn't want to be near them, any of them. I didn't need Tom's fake congratulations of me, Jordan's annoying and witty personality, or Daisy's empty loving touches and affections. Did I mention that they meant absolutely nothing? To everyone but Gatsby.

"Don't act like you don't know Daisy…" I glared at her, and she backed away in a small fright. I felt sorry. I hadn't meant to scare her…No. No, she deserved this. They all deserved this. "All of you, you talk about the man as if he doesn't live next door! As if you've never had the pleasure of meeting him! As if you've never drank his liquor or danced on his floor! ALL OF YOU have attended his parties, more than once, ALL OF YOU have spoken with him, and when you were speaking to him, it certainly wasn't about any of this…this nonsense! …Jordan!" I got her attention and she looked at me. "You've talked to Gatsby, you've been to his parties, and he even took you up to his library to talk for hours. You've spent the most time with him out of anyone besides me. Tell me, do you feel it right to be _gossiping _about him like you've never met him?"

Jordan thought about her words carefully. This was supposed to be fun, watching people bicker and gossip, now Nick was making it dull. She was frowning now as she finally thought of her answer, speaking it with a certain tone that was probably meant to irritate me. "I believe that if one doesn't want rumors spread about them, they should come out and tell the truth."

My jaw tightened in anger that was much unlike me, and I growled at her. "He _is _telling the truth!"

Jordan started to mock. "Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you god?" She imitated a court worker, and then made a horrid imitation of Gatsby. "_Of course not, old sport, but I will tell you god's truth, and, why, even that is but a lie!_"

She was making me sick, and by the way I was looking at her in disgust, I was surprised that she had the audacity to provoke me more. But this was Jordan, and Jordan Baker wasn't serious about anything, not even her golfing career, and no wonder she had to cheat to make her name in this city.

"You need to grow up Nick." Jordan told me. "Stop believing in fairy tales. The Great _Jay Gatsby _is no greater than you or me, or anyone for that matter. He's just a simple man."

"Well he was until _your kind _corrupted him into thinking he had to change! I know the truth about Jay! _I_ _know everything!_" Perhaps I sounded childish at this point, but I didn't care. I was right and I knew I was right. They were wrong, they were all wrong about Gatsby, wrong about him from every detail!

"Our kind?" Daisy questioned, and with a giggle she brushed her hand against my cheek. "Silly Nicky, we're all human here. All our own kind."

I pulled from her, either for my own protection or for hers; I was too heated by my hungers of the truth to be known. "I'm not one of you! Don't you see? We're all separated by society, every one of us obsessed on what other's think, too embarrassed and ashamed to look through our own feelings and desires."

"Rich girls don't marry poor boys, Nicky." Daisy told me like it was the very law of god himself.

"Is that what you told Gatsby after you had your little fun with him?" I pushed.

"What fun? What are you talking about?" Tom asked, and Daisy's red stained lips opened in shock at me for bringing up such a thing.

I smiled at her. "Looks like the Golden Girl has some secrets of her own that she isn't telling about."

"I don't know what's come over you Nick, but I don't like it!" Daisy cried, her makeup running dark lines down her pasty white cheeks as she wept.

"That's not even the worst of it." There was no way I could stop myself. And I kept going, until I was about to go my furthest. "And there's something else you should all know!"

"Nick please don't!" Daisy sobbed into Tom's chest, gripping his suit as he held her pathetically.

"Myrtle wasn't killed by who you think. It wasn't-" The rest got drowned out by a single roaring of a bullet leaving its home, a gunshot fired and echoed loudly, ringing in all of our ears. Daisy screamed, and Tom knelt with her on the ground, covering her head in case there were stray fires, Jordan looked slightly surprised, and I, well, I heard from what direction the sound came from. "-Gatsby!" I cried, looking out my window to his house, I didn't wait another minute, didn't even contemplate before I had gotten to my front door. I could distinctly hear Tom yelling after me.

"Running fool! You'll run straight into your death! He's the one who probably fired it! That Gatsby is a madman! We mustn't associate ourselves with him any longer! " Tom shouted.

The loud noise must have woken something in Daisy, because she started rushing after me, screaming "Jay!" all the way out the door.

"Daisy, come back here! We mustn't involve ourselves in such messes as these!" Tom tried and darted after her when she just kept running.

Jordan was the last to exit, blinking before leaping up from my couch. Maybe because she had nothing else better to do, I did hear that her career in golf had taken a turn. But our thoughts about each other and differences didn't matter now, because we were all running, running to Gatsby's.


	2. Saving Grace

I kept on running, at a speed that I didn't know I could possibly achieve. My heart was sprinting, hammering against my ribcage, and my breathing was irregular and slobbish. Why was I so afraid? So startled? Scared for god knows what- for my neighbor?

I overheard gunshots coming from his house. Of course any common man or woman would be upset about the possibilities of danger.

But this was unalike anything else. An average person would be startled of course, but would also be expected to stay far away from said danger. I on the other hand was running straight to it and later on as I've realized, I did in fact run right into it and ran everyone else into it as well.

I could have been a normal person and stayed away from the sounds of gunfire. I could have waited out a few more shots and then called the police for them to deal with it. If I had done that, then this story would have ended an immense bit quicker. I don't care what Daisy says, or what Jordan had to laugh at and lie about or what Tom says to me- He for the most part pinned it all on me, said everything was my fault from the very beginning. I never said it wasn't true or that I denied it, maybe it all was my fault in some way.

Gatsby always told me not to listen to the man, him being a polo player and all. Jay told me that he had always had a slight distrust for them, this leading back to an old green jersey he kept hidden deep within his closet, the one he told me about on that night of the hit and run when he told me all about the life he dreamt of for himself since he was just a boy, before and after Daisy had corrupted it for him.

If greed was a sin then Tom Buchanan was a devil, selling me out to various news articles and papers for insane amounts of money. As I've said before, he tried to pin it all on me. The affair, the hit and run, the murder and even child abuse for the fact that young Pammy was left with only nannies to take care of her for a few days. All the claims being ridiculous and Mrs. Wilson's sister Catherine being the kind woman she was- alright she was bribed very well, but she did help to clear my name quite a bit.

Really I let myself take the fall, it didn't really matter to me if she cleared my name or not at the time. I even said it was better if my own name was slandered than anyone else's but a friend of mine just wouldn't have that.

So I didn't completely lose my freedom that summer, but I lost something else that couldn't ever be replaced. Being here, locked up in this sanitarium, I've had a lot of time to think things through and clip little pieces together to make sense. I've come to the understandable and undeniable fact that all of it was true. Tom was right and Jay's last words to me were wrong. All of this, everything that has happened was in fact my entire fault. I tried to stop something I started but I couldn't and those ninety-six hours would forever be remember as the most worrisome, restless, and frightening few days of my entire life.

I felt like any failure would have at this moment. I felt that I really did let Gatsby down because even I, as much as I tried, couldn't save him from his fate.

We're getting ahead of ourselves here so now it's up to me to go back to that fateful summer morning we all ran like moth's to a flame to the palace next door like so many other men and women did and will continue to do before and after us.

It had rained last night and the grass along with the rocks was slippery under my shoes. I slipped a few times but didn't fall, my only goal was to get to Jay even faster. The rock path made noises under my feet and the sopping grass squished with mud, I ran farther until I reached the bushes and cut through his garden. I ran past an angry gardener but I couldn't stop. Nothing could have ever really stopped me then.

I remembered that he said he was going to use the pool and I said I'd call him about noon. I called in sick to work after taking one look at an innocent yellow cab, realizing I couldn't suck it all up and head to the city. I did take a nap and was about to call him before Jordan and them barged in when they did.

Getting to the pool was quick, up the stairs and I was there. I saw fate dead in the eyes, from Gatsby's raised hands and Wilson's raised revolver, I could climb and I climbed alone over the railing.

"Nick." He said with some relief and I was glad to have supplied that much- I was already to him- my back was to the crazed man behind us.

"Out of the way!" Wilson shouted but I couldn't have cared much less did what he said.

"Are you shot?"

"He missed me, old sport. I'm alright for now."

"Yeah and you're going to be." I told him, crudely. Then I was turned with the side of a pistol to face death.

"Who the hell are you?" Wilson demanded and now the gun was pointed at my own chest.

I felt it tighten to a knot and the weight of the situation finally dawned upon me like an unwanted gaze.

"Me? Why, I'm nobody."

To this day I can't get the man's disturbed eyes out of my head. They were dark and cold, no signs of the warmth of life could be found and I feared that I was staring at the very eyes of Satan himself. Wilson muttered crazily and it occurred to me that he wasn't talking to either of us as he did. "Says he's nobody…You hear that?"

I was standing in front of Gatsby, my arms behind my back holding him just in case we both had to make a quick move or decision and my mind raced desperately to find one of the two.

Wilson waved the gun in my face with this sick and greasy slack look of satisfaction. "You're not no-body."

"If I'm not then have you ever heard of me before?" I inquired.

Feeling Jay's worried breathing on the back of my neck, I really couldn't blame him. Even I had no idea what I was doing at the time.

"Heard of ya?" Wilson asked. "Yeah I heard of you! You Gatsby? Which one of you is Gatsby?"

We didn't answer him, Gatsby nor I. We waited for- well anything to tell the truth. Neither of us made any sudden movements. I just tightened my hands around his waist from behind me and he dug into my wrists with trembling fingernails. I readied myself and let go of Gatsby who I yanked my wrists from.

He scratched my hands to get me to stop pulling away from him. Perhaps he knew what I was planning to do, but before I could grab for the gun a golden bullet zipped across the ground and into Jay's arms and Daisy pulled him close.

"Daisy." He whispered her name in blond hair with disbelief.

"Jay, I thought I lost you." Daisy said and even I couldn't believe it.

"I thought I lost you too." He told her, calmly still.

"Who the hell's that?" Wilson jabbed the gun at Daisy.

The golden girl gasped into the very expensive fabric of a shirt.

"Daisy darling, stay behind me." Gatsby instructed her and pulled her protectively behind him, holding her the way I had just been holding him behind my own back. He wasn't even standing behind me anymore. I protected no one now.

"Why're you doing this?" Daisy said to Wilson with tears and with her blond bob on Gatsby's shoulder.

"Daisy!" Tom yelled for her and trotted over. "Daisy! What the hell are you thinking running over to- Gatsby." He settled on the name, blandly. "What a pleasant surprise this is."

"Gatsby!" Wilson cried. "Wha's Gatsby!?"

"Wilson!" Tom said his name loudly as if the demented man was hard of hearing. "What the hell's all this? What's that gun for?" Without fear or the required hesitation to pull off such an act, he moved to take away the weapon.

"Don' move!" Wilson pointed the gun at Tom's head now. "You move, and I shoot!"

Tom put up his hands and didn't get closer to him. Tom was in front of me now and I was beside Gatsby who shielded Daisy.

"You're crazier than hell, Wilson." Tom said to him. "You always have been. Now I'm gonna collect my wife and leave. I couldn't give a damn about what you do with these other two. They'd sure as hell deserve whatever you gave them."

"Wife! You killed my wife!" Wilson shouted suddenly and the gun was pointed wildly between our heads. I feared that he would fire- angry enough- and to kill.

"Please Mr. Wilson, no one needs to get hurt over this. There can still be a happy ending here, do you understand that?" I pleaded to him.

"No, I don't!" shouted Wilson bitterly, both hands were gripping the gun in my face now. "One of you killed my wife and I'm gonna find out who done it and I'm gonna kill 'em!"

There was nothing we could do. Soon and certainly he'd get angry enough to shoot-only god help us then and when.

"You told me who did it and I'm gonna get the son-of-a-bitch like you said." informed Wilson to no one we knew particularly.

Tom assumed that it was him being referred to.

"Yes I told you who did it, and to deal with the damned thing but I never gave you the idea to blow my own wife's head off! -Daisy. We're going."

"No!" she screeched.

"Put it down." I instructed Wilson sternly.

"No!" He yelled at me.

Cursing, Jordan rustled and fought her way through the bushes near us, heels in hand and picking all the scattered leaves out of her hair also off her body.

"Damnit to hell- This is the last time I- But the woman just _insisted _that we go shopping and what Daisy wants, Daisy- Oh my."

She noticed us and at the same time Wilson did her.

"Get outta here! Who the hell'r you?" He backed up and spun the gun on her now.

I could have grabbed for it- I should have- but he was pointing it directly at Jordan. She could have been killed instantly if I did it now.

"Nick?" suggested Jordan.

She said my name with wide eyes like I had the answer for everything that was going on here. I wasn't sure if I did- being certain that I knew that no one else didn't- I wouldn't have ever known for sure anyhow.

"Jordan." I acknowledged her.

"Jordan." acknowledged Daisy too.

"Daisy." nodded Jordan and then, "Tom."

"Jordan." said Tom.

Gatsby blinked some. "Ms. Baker." he stated with respect.

"Mr. Gatsby." nodded back Jordan.

"Gatsby!" cried Wilson with a start, and spun his gun again at all of our heads, not seeing who Jordan had referred to.

"Mr. Wilson…" I gulped and I might've heard Jay gasp behind me.

"You!" exclaimed Wilson and raised the gun directly at my head, backing me up closer to the pool. "You done this?"

"I-" I refused to tell him that I hadn't. "Please-"

He stared at me for the longest time, the pistol straight in front of my face. He had had the chance to fire, I thought he was going to and I couldn't find it in me to say anything to convince him otherwise except for the one fact that would surely have the gun spinning away from me in seconds- that I wasn't the one he intended to kill. I couldn't say that so nothing was said from me, nothing at all.

I look back now and all I could see was me staring straight down into that dark barrel and the world disappearing so that there was nothing but me and that gun. I was terrified then but that's no matter. The world seemed much farther until one fine moment-

It was Wilson who hesitated, and drew the gun back. I breathed out hard and I didn't even know that my breath was being held at all.

He had a doubt in his eyes, Wilson. He knew that he wanted to get this right and not fail like he did with the rest of the things in his life, like his business and his marriage that he let fall to pieces. He wanted to handle this and go about this the right way, something he didn't do well at all when confronting Myrtle about the affair she was having. He loved her, but he had hurt her in trying to make her understand that he loved her. She was bleeding from her head because of him and then she ran in the road to get away from him.

Like I said, time slowed for me and the gun and gunman. I eventually broke free of the trance and my eyes darted to Jay, Tom, Daisy and Jordan who stared along silently. But Wilson was still staring at me, gun in hand except it was lowered. If he wanted to he still could have shot me if he just pulled his finger back once. It would have hit me- _killed me_.

Wilson stepped back, with a drastic change of tempo. He was calmer, and not wild like before. He swayed the gun still but steadier and focused as opposed to abrupt and witlessly.

"One of you, did it." Wilson nodded with certainty. "One of you killed my wife and one of you is gonna tell me who."

No one spoke or replied to him. We were rendered unresponsive by some kind of tensional shock and competition between all of us. We all knew- some of us more than others- but we did the same.

Wilson looked back, amused as he first noticed the grand house standing behind him towering over us all in the danger.

"In it," He said and moved us towards the house. "Get in it and don't make no noise, we're gonna be real quiet and we're gonna find out who."

That house held parties and conspiracies. It held secrets and affairs, some business related and filthy. This palace held promise and free booze and people and false hopes and securities- and movie stars and servants and late nights and gangsters and lights and darkness and music and oboes and trombones and saxophones and viols and cornets and piccolos and low drums and high drums- And once enthusiastic meetings between women who never knew each other's names. A "little party" went far, why, as far as anything- but _this_…

This house held everything, and by the looks of it, as we entered the backdoor through the main room and to the living room and by the time Wilson had fired off the gun and Herzog fell to the floor dead- by the time Gatsby's grief-stricken cry for his most trusted servant came to be an aching sound, I had realized that the house held us too.


End file.
